Page 173 of Fearless

It was Ronnie, and she almost stowed it away again. But if he was going to be this persistent, she’d have to deal with him at some point. She put her back to the men and walked a few steps away, around the front of the neighboring car.

Her voice felt heavy in her throat as she answered. “Hello?”

There was a beat of silence, then: “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“Yes. That’s called ‘ignoring’ when people do that. I’m ignoring you, Ronnie.”

“Don’t be like that.”

She felt too bad to take hold of any patience. “That’s a running theme with you, isn’t it? Always worried about how I’m behaving. ‘Don’t be like that.’ You’ve been saying that since the moment we got to Knoxville.”

“Ava–”

“Shut up. You got to say your piece yesterday, well here’s mine. You’ve made it perfectly clear that your affection is conditional. And you can’t love me unless I behave a certain way. Unless Iama certainthing. Well I can’t love someone who has those sorts of expectations. I’m looking for aman, Ronnie, not a country club invite or arm candy or someone to challenge me. I want to get married; I want children. I want a quiet, happy life, and I don’t want to be given those things on your terms.”

She sucked in a deep breath, shocked at her own admission, shocked that he hadn’t interrupted. It had all come pouring out, before she could collect the scattered bits: she did want a family, a home that she’d built for it. She wanted all the stable things that made life in the club livable.

“Are you at the school?” he finally asked over the heaving of her breath. “I’ll come by and see you. We can work things out.”

“Yesterday, you were done with me, and now you want to ‘work things out,’ ” she said. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“I just…” He sighed. “Will you give me a chance to explain myself?”

“You did that yesterday.”

“No, but–”

“Shut up,” she repeated. It was a sigh, an exhausted breath. She tipped her head back and let the sun pour over her face, warm her skin. “You’re trying to save a sinking ship. I’m sorry I dragged you up here, I really am. But there’s nothing left for us to hold onto. We’re done, Ronnie. You had it right yesterday.”

When he didn’t respond, she disconnected.

Back at the truck, there was a new rear tire in place and Dublin was taking the Ford down off the jack. “The spare was slashed too,” he informed her. “Someone wanted to keep you put.”

“Or just screw up my day,” she said. “Either way, thanks for coming to save me.”

“No sweat, sweetheart.” He secured the two flats to the back of the garage truck with a length of chain. “You better follow us back to the shop, though, and I’ll set you up with a new spare.”

She smiled thinly. “And because my dad won’t believe I’m okay until he lays eyes on me?”

“Yep, that too.”

When they arrived at Dartmoor, Ava left her truck at Moorland for Dublin’s boys to fit with a new spare tire, and she walked down to the central office, enjoying the sun on her skin, the breeze against her face. She still felt hungover, so she sipped the last half of her Coke and let the soft currents of river air soothe her pounding head.

The door to the office was propped wide with a loose cinderblock, as was always the case on pretty afternoons, and Maggie was glued to the computer, fingers clacking across the keys.

“Hi,” Ava greeted, dropping into the chair across from the desk. She hooked her legs over the arm and let her head fall back.

“Hi, sweetie,” Maggie said, frowning at the computer screen. “How was your day?”

“Aside from the slashed tires, not too bad.”

That got her attention. Maggie’s head snapped up, hazel eyes bugging. “Excuse me?”

Ava recounted the tire story, thinking all the while that it had been a smart call to leave Ghost out of things thus far. He would have been demanding to see security tapes at the school, pounding on the dean’s office door.

Maggie was almost as bad. “We need to see those tapes,” she said, the moment Ava stopped talking.

“Mom, we can’t do that.”

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